


After the Storm

by Notebooknote



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Friendship/Love, Gen, Post-War, References to Suicide, Song Lyrics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-23
Updated: 2013-05-23
Packaged: 2017-12-12 17:12:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/813999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Notebooknote/pseuds/Notebooknote
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The thunder that woke him was loud and proud and it demanded to be heard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	After the Storm

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my first BoB fic and the second one I have ever written. The title and lyrics come from Mumford and Sons "After the Storm." I apologize for any inaccuracies and I mean no disrespect in anyway. There could be some triggering material. I hope you enjoy this!

_And after the storm,_  
I run and run as the rains come  
And I look up, I look up,  
on my knees and out of luck,  
I look up. 

_Night has always pushed up day_  
You must know life to see decay  
But I won't rot, I won't rot  
Not this mind and not this heart,  
I won't rot. 

_And I took you by the hand_  
And we stood tall,  
And remembered our own land,  
What we lived for. 

_And there will come a time, you'll see, with no more tears._  
And love will not break your heart, but dismiss your fears.  
Get over your hill and see what you find there,  
With grace in your heart and flowers in your hair. 

_And now I cling to what I knew_  
I saw exactly what was true  
But oh no more.  
That's why I hold,  
That's why I hold with all I have.  
That's why I hold. 

_And I won't die alone and be left there._  
Well I guess I'll just go home,  
Oh God knows where.  
Because death is just so full and man so small.  
Well I'm scared of what's behind and what's before. 

_And there will come a time, you'll see, with no more tears._  
And love will not break your heart, but dismiss your fears.  
Get over your hill and see what you find there,  
With grace in your heart and flowers in your hair. 

And there will come a time, you'll see, with no more tears.  
And love will not break your heart, but dismiss your fears.  
Get over your hill and see what you find there,  
With grace in your heart and flowers in your hair. 

\-----

The thunder that woke him was loud and proud and it demanded to be heard.

He woke with a start and panicked. Thunderstorms always got to him. It just reminded him of the cold, the shells, the broken trees. It was loud and rude and dark with flashes. He used to love them, but now, now he was different. He was scared. But, it wasn't just the thunder that scared him. He had awoken alone. Sure, since he'd gotten back, there were tons of storms, but he'd never been alone for any of them. Not a single one.

They had decided somewhere along the way home that they would stick together for a bit. They hit the docks of New York and took off to South Philly where his mother was waiting. The next week they left for Louisiana and stayed there. They got a little place and settled into a natural rhythm. Some nights one would be writhing in the sheets, other nights it would be the other with a cold sweat. After a few months, and a few too many close encounters with a knife, or a bridge, or some rope - _don't you dare leave me_ \- they slowly got to the point where it was the storms that would shake them up. The loud noises, or quiet nights in the dark, anytime alone, they'd have anxiety and worry and tears would start at the corners of their eyes. They would always have their memories and ghosts and nightmares, but as long as they had each other, it'd be okay. 

He found himself running around their tiny home, busting doors open, mouth shut in a determined line. He could hear the rain pounding on the roof, the thunder claps. The lights were out, he was in the dark, save for the lightning, but he wouldn't stop until he found him. He'd searched every room twice, three times. It wasn't until he'd walked past the kitchen window and saw him outside on the ground.

As he approached, he saw his body, soaked through from the downpour, shaking with the terrible strength of his tears. He wouldn't look up at him, wouldn't stop staring at the same spot on the wet ground. He begged for him to come inside, pleaded saying everything was okay and that they were home. But he stayed, kneeling there. After a long pause, he looked up. He took him and they held each other as they walked back into the house. Neither of them said anything until they got inside. He looked at his Cajun friend when he began to speak.

_I heard someone call for me and I was too late._

**Author's Note:**

> Okay! It isn't the greatest and I hope I did some kind of good with this. Thanks for reading!


End file.
